Surprise! I don’t believe I’ve officially announced that we are bailing out on educational institutions and fully exploring my inability to facilitate craft projects.

Homeschooling!James, age 5, is of the kindergarten age. So instead of going through the ritual of sending my darling baby off to school, I decided to keep him all to myself and try to educate him that way.

I could not get a good picture to save my life on our first day of school. There are so many funny things about this picture I can’t even begin to explain…

Good luck to me, right???

I brace myself a little bit every time I announce this. While a few people accept this method of education as completely normal, many respond with astonishment, skepticism, admiration, fear, confusion, pity and/or wonder.

So I have to explain and defend myself to some extent. But it’s okay. I had to get over my own skepticism to begin with. You see, I married a homeschooler. If it had been any other way, I probably wouldn’t have even considered it. But after years of hearing him explain his upbringing and advocating for this odd educational technique, I decided to do at least look into it. And I never really looked back.

So why, you ask. WHY? It’s not because I hate public schools or think they’re going to ruin my children’s lives. I love a lot of teachers, I admire their work, and I think my kids would be fine in a classroom. I excelled in public school myself.

It’s not because I want to smother my children and hide everything evil from their eyes and ears for as long as possible—although I have to admit I’m glad their exposure to topics too mature for them will be limited for at least a while longer. So call me overprotective if you want, but I suppose that’s a matter of opinion.

It’s not because I’ve had this lifelong dream to sing songs and draw rainbows and butterflies all over my house, reliving some lost childhood fantasy.

It’s not because I think homeschooling is the end all be all, superior method of education for everyone and that my children are better than everyone else’s and anyone who thinks otherwise can take a hike.

So here’s why I’m choosing to homeschool, although I don’t think I can fully explain it:

There are several good education options for my kids in my community. However, this option seems the best—for us —at the current time. I can provide my kids with a lot of individualized attention, help them learn at their own pace with their own style, explore their interests, and foster a love of learning. I don’t know that we’re going to do this for the entire K-12 stretch, but I think it’s a good place to start.

Homeschool is an extension of our parenting. We can seamlessly blend our family’s values with everything the kids are learning. This isn’t just about being able to read the Bible or pray together during school hours. This is about talking about heart issues, life’s challenges and the real world in every context (Deuteronomy 6:4-9). Kids grow up fast and I want to take every opportunity I can to help them excel in life—not just in academics and work, but in relationships and character. There are some wonderful teachers out there who can help kids in this way to an extent, but nobody does it better than a parent.

Oh yeah, and as I mentioned, Marc was homeschooled and I think he turned out pretty good. Plus if this just doesn’t work (as homeschooling doesn’t work for everyone), we fortunately have other options.

Isn’t it great that we have options to help our kids learn and grow?!! I think so. We’re trying this one first.

Now I know you might be thinking things like, “But aren’t you worried they won’t get enough socialization? I could never do that, I’m not that organized. I couldn’t be around my kids all day. Have you been trained as a teacher? Aren’t you afraid they’ll miss something? Aren’t they going to turn out naive and unprepared for life? How could you possibly teach while you have a toddler running around?”

Sheesh, it’s just kindergarten. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Update: I wrote a follow-up to this post here. To continue following our homeschooling journey, be sure to subscribe to updates!

Disclosure: this post contains affiliate links. See here for more information.

Want to hear about the most epic trip our family has ever taken? Sure you do.

It all started last winter as we were planning out our year because I was feeling a little homesick. I hadn’t been west of the Rockies in four years. Four years! I’ve had a couple of kids since then and I was due to see a few folks and show them off.

Our road warriors, ages 1, 3 and 5.

Why fly when you can drive a few thousand miles and multiply the fun?

Here was our route:

We took the southern route out and the northern route home

In case you didn’t notice, Google Maps estimates 64 hours of road time. This doesn’t include stops or any excursions at some of our destinations. Don’t you think we’re crazy? I thought I was. But the hotels were booked, the plans were made and we were going.

The number one bit of advice I’d give to anyone planning this kind of trek with children under five is to take it slow. The whole purpose of this trip was to visit our family in the Northwest, including in Boise, Spokane and Priest Lake (see above). But we figured, as long as we were headed out that way, why not enjoy the journey and see some old friends along the way?

Fun stops: I won’t detail every leg of our journey, but the drive to the Spokane area took seven days, including a full day in Denver and two days in Boise. If there was an interesting place to stop on the road, we took it. This included places on the way out like a model train museum in Missouri, a natural history museum in Kansas and an unplanned side trip to Arches National Park in Utah. We gave ourselves enough wiggle room in our schedule to enjoy some spontaneity (although the Arches detour took four hours and we didn’t get to Boise until about 2 a.m. that day. Whoops!).

Arches National Park was one of my favorite scenic excursions! Trains. Lots of trains.

The ride back wasn’t as fun, but we made the most of it, particularly in South Dakota. Our favorite stops were Wall Drug, the kitschiest tourist trap on the planet, and Badlands National Park.

Just one of the attractions at Wall Drug. The Badlands

Oh, and if there was anywhere interesting to eat, we found it. And ate it. I highly recommendTrip Advisor for finding good restaurants.

Surviving the Ride: In spite of our frequent stops, we spent a lot of time in the car. We were loaded with games and activities. When it came down to it, I sheepishly admit that the iPad and the Leap Padmade everything much easier. I limit their exposure to electronics at home, so the fact that they were given a lot more screen time was a special treat. And it kept them quiet so Marc and I could enjoy books on CD! Hey, it was long ride for us too!

And just so I don’t feel like a complete sellout to electronics, I’ll mention that we sang songs and played road games and had “quiet time” every afternoon after lunch. We made them turn the games off when the scenery was interesting. They also actually self-regulated at times and turned the devices off themselves (gasp!). And of course they did a lot of coloring and played with little gadgets that I stuffed into their backpacks like the Etch-A-Sketch and a magnet board.

Grace, being 16 months old, did miraculously well. She dozed, she looked out the window, she looked at me in her little mirror, she watched her brothers. We also had a huge bag of board books and manipulative toys. As long as her diaper was clean and her tummy was full, she wasn’t terribly miserable. Except for the worst diaper rash I’ve seen in my life. That was the worst problem of the whole trip, and she was a little trooper.

Friends and Family: Seeing the people we love was by far the highlight of the trip, including my college roommate in Kansas City, friends we knew in Anchorage who now live in Denver, and of course parents, siblings and extended family in Washington and Idaho.

At times I felt sad or guilty that I didn’t get to see everyone I would have liked to, especially in the Seattle and Portland areas. But we had to press on. Maybe next time!

Scenery: If you have not taken a road trip through the western U.S., you are missing out. The Rocky Mountains, the red rocks of Utah, the wilderness of Idaho, the inland lakes of the Northwest, the Badlands of South Dakota…all of them are absolutely breathtaking. The kids didn’t appreciate it as much as I did, but I hope that we can foster in them an appreciation of nature as they grow up.

Lucky Peak just outside Boise

So that’s my story that I lived to tell. Would I do it again? Absolutely.

Disclosure: this post contains affiliate links. See here for more information.

In another bout of pregnancy-induced insanity, I made an interesting decision a few weeks ago.

Here’s the question I was forced to answer. For my 25-month-old son Jonathan, should I force potty training before baby (due in two months), or put it off until…indefinitely?

I’ve written about potty training before. With my oldest son about a year and half ago, we kind of figured it out was we went. I also did an experimental run a few months ago, and failed miserably.

For some reason the hormones convinced me that I could do it this time.

But guess what? It worked! He was mostly trained in about a week.

Thus I give you: Gina’s proven potty training method for a young toddler. I hope you find this useful if you have a little one running around!

Please note that this might not work for everyone. Not every child is alike, and not every family has the same schedule and setup as we do. However, I based this method on solid principles I’ve read about as well as the advice I’ve sought from several veteran moms. I think that if your child is ready and you stick with it, you can make this happen.

The short version

Get rid of diapers during hours awake—switch to cloth shorts or underwear. Spend an intensive day with toddler and take him to the training potty every time he starts to make a mess. Teach him how to pull his own pants down and practice every time he has an accident. Follow up with training over the next few days. Toddler will catch on.

The long version

Okay, so in spite of what might be implied by this post’s title, I have to confess that I would be am a terrible drill sergeant. Especially with my lovable sweet cuddle child. However, for this reason, the potty training experience was not terrible; we bonded over it and got a lot of one-on-one time together.

I’m going to break down what we did (loosely) by day. Most of the important stuff happened on the first day.

Also note a few things that were in place prior to intensive training:

Jonathan was already showing interest in the potty and was familiar with sitting on it. I hadn’t forced anything up to this point, but he liked to copy everyone else in the house and take potty breaks. So far he hadn’t scored any goods in the toilet.

He was fully capable of understanding and following basic instructions like “stand up,” “sit down,” “go over there,” etc.

I had been his primary caregiver and planned to continue being his primary caregiver. I was able to enforce training and follow up with it. Everyone who has watched him since training has been on board (no diapers). This type of method might be difficult if you have a daycare provider or sitter who isn’t willing or able to follow through.

I had committed at least a week of a pretty clear schedule. I had to be okay with letting some of the housework and other responsibilities go so I could focus primarily on Jonathan.

Day 1

I dropped the older brother off at Grandma and Grandpa’s house (very important!) and then set up potty world in our kitchen—a training potty, his little table, and lots of little activities and books we could access. This gave us a lot of space, easy cleanup and access to food. I offered Jonathan a lot of salty snacks and encouraged him to drink a lot of juice. This was a big treat for him, so potty training was off to a good start. Not to mention—he doesn’t get a lot of alone time with Mommy.

The diaper came off and I grabbed a big pile of shorts. We started the morning by spending a lot of time just sitting on the potty and practicing pulling the shorts up and down. To get him to stay seated we read books and sang songs (some recommend not doing this because it distracts from the task at hand; but seriously how else do you get them to sit?). He’d roughly spend about ten minutes on and ten minutes off. Inevitably he got some pee in the potty. This was rewarded with lots of praise (and even a cookie…shhh).

Once it was clear that pee went in the potty (after about an hour), I started making it unpleasant if pee ended up anywhere else. It wasn’t “punishment,” but more of an opportunity to “practice.” I’d ask him if his pants were wet or dry. If they were wet, he had to walk to the potty, pull his pants down, sit down and then up again, pants up. Repeat ten times. Yep, ten times. With minimal assistance. The novelty wore off quickly, and he realized this was not the way he wanted to be spending his time. (I followed the method described in Toilet Training in Less Than a Day. I didn’t follow the method exactly, but pretty close).

At naptime he got a diaper and we both got a break! Whew!

By the end of the day, Jonathan had at least figured out how to hold his pee for a couple of hours, so I let him roam free outside of the kitchen. I moved the training potty back to the bathroom. It wasn’t so bad cleaning up a small mess every couple of hours, especially since the shorts absorbed most of it.

Days 2-5

I dropped the whole ten times practice routine on Day 2 because it was starting to traumatize us. Maybe he would have trained faster if I hadn’t, but like I said, I’m a bad drill sergeant. Instead, I just gave him a disapproving look and told him to go sit on the potty every time he was wet. He got the message. I also switched him to underwear so he would get used to the feel of it. In fact, he and James had an “underwear party” for a few days. Whatever made it fun.

Jonathan typically stayed dry for two to three hours. He still had a lot of regular practice time on the potty—it was sort of a game involving more books and songs. More often than not, though, he still had accidents. But he started taking himself to the bathroom after accidents and told himself “no, no…no messes” whenever they happened.

At some point we switched from the small potty to the big potty, with a Cars 2 training seat on top. He seemed to like it better — and I’m all for less cleanup.

I’ll also mention that he saved his BMs for when he was wearing a diaper, immediately before and/or after sleeping. Wasn’t sure what to think about that.

Day 6

I was seriously contemplating giving up, but then…a light bulb went off! He somehow figured out how to get to the bathroom before he had to go. And he hit the toilet (with some help aiming…still sitting down). Hooray! From here on, it got a lot easier. He still enjoyed doing a lot of practicing, just sitting on the toilet. This was getting pretty old for me.

Days 7+

I gradually made potty time less of a game and more about getting down to business. If I knew he had an empty bladder, I wouldn’t sit and sing songs or read books with him.

Day 8

Jonathan finally got over his phobia of pooping in the toilet and dropped one.

Day 10

Our first successful use of a public bathroom! Wasn’t so bad….

Now

I am totally confident taking Jonathan anywhere without a diaper (although we haven’t done any long car rides yet). He tells me every time he needs to go. Accidents are more about bad aim than forgetting to go (I tried the whole cup on the front of the seat thing, and it doesn’t matter…). He still seems to have a poop phobia, but at least he’s going in his diaper and not his pants (with the exception of one time). And yes, he’s still in diapers for naps and bedtime, but I’m not too concerned about that.

Overall, this method was intense, but I’m definitely doing it again! It was worth every minute. I realize that he may regress once the baby is born, but at least we’ll have a solid foundation established.

Update December 2015:

It has been almost three years now, and I’ve enjoyed reviewing this little experience. If I remember correctly, Jonathan still struggled with the potty for quite some time, especially after his baby sister was born. I had to remind him to go fairly regularly until he was about three.

I also used this method on my daughter around the time she turned two. It was a very effective way to jumpstart her and she caught on to peeing in the potty very quickly. However, she has had quite the phobia with poop. I don’t force it, so at almost three she’s still in a Pull-Up. But at least it stays dry most of the day!

If there is one thing I’d say in hindsight, it is simply that this method is effective for jumpstarting the potty training process. Each toddler is going to respond differently. Some of them just aren’t mature enough to be fully trained; just remember it’s okay. If it doesn’t work, try again later. Don’t stress about it. They won’t be in diapers forever! You might even miss diapers someday (nah, just kidding).

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Take note, gentlemen. This is pretty much a guaranteed way to get a wife. Ladies, you can pass this along to your significant others as a hint.

This story takes place in Seattle in February of 2006. I was a senior at the University of Washington. My boyfriend Marc lived in Illinois, about a five-hour flight away. We had been dating for about three months. Being typical college students (although technically he had just graduated), we were both fairly broke. Thus we savored any opportunity we had to see each other in person. Since we had first met the previous summer, we had only seen each other twice.

It was a typical gray winter Tuesday. Not much going on. I wasn’t feeling particularly cheery because I knew I’d be spending Valentine’s Day alone. The previous weekend I had gone to a Valentine’s party alone. On top of that, while we had chatted briefly over the phone, Marc seemed distracted and busy. I was scheduled to work my job at the University of Washington’s main library that evening from about 5 to 10. If we didn’t have the opportunity to talk before my shift, we probably wouldn’t talk again until the next day because his time zone was two hours ahead of mine.

I sadly walked up the steps to the library that evening as my shift approached, perhaps feeling a little dejected. I was trying to remain positive and not be upset with my boyfriend for making it a pretty lame V-Day.

As I approached the desk at my department, my co-worker handed me a red rose. He didn’t speak English very well, so the interaction that followed was somewhat confusing.

“Who is that from?”

“Your boyfriend.”

I figured that Marc had cleverly communicated with one of my friends to deliver me a rose.

“But who brought it?”

“Your boyfriend.”

I started to get frustrated. I knew it was from my boyfriend, but who had dropped off the rose?? There was also a card with it that I didn’t look at.

My co-worker still insisted that my boyfriend had brought it, so I tried to clarify.

“You mean my boyfriendis here?”

He smiled and nodded. Clearly he was confused because he didn’t even know who my boyfriend was.

I looked around. “Where???!!” So frustrated!

He pointed down the hallway to the “Reading Room.”

At this point I started to realize that the problem was not that he wasn’t understanding what I was saying–I clearly had not understood him! Somewhat shaken, I stumbled towards the Reading Room. At this library, it looks somewhat like a cathedral.

The Suzzallo Reading Room at UW

Quite a romantic setting, obviously. I walked in and sure enough, Marc was waiting for me in a suit and tie with a full bouquet.

So I did the logical thing–and ran away back out into the hallway .I think a part of me was trying to be practical and didn’t want to disturb people who were studying with a big scene (he still makes fun of me for it).

He chased me out into the hallway and gave me a big embrace. I still couldn’t believe it. He had found a substitute for my work, borrowed my roommate’s car, and had arranged a dinner for two at the Space Needle SkyCity restaurant (not easy to get on Valentine’s Day!). He had even given me enough time to go home and change my clothes. Not to mention he managed to fly across the country that day without making me even remotely suspicious!

I don’t remember what we ate as we sat above the city in the famous rotating restaurant or even what we talked about. But I do remember thinking seriously for the first time, “I want to marry this man.” I knew he would get me the moon if it would make me happy. Six months later we both moved to Alaska, a month later he proposed, and two months after that we were married.

We’ve had a few Valentine’s Days since then, and I can honestly say I love my husband more each year. I don’t need (or really want) spectacular suprises like that all the time. But I still love to tell this story because it reminds me what a wonderful man I have.

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My husband made me an omelet this morning. He makes really good omelets.

The kids had already eaten, as they are always starving from the instant their eyes open every morning. So this was a treat for Mommy and Daddy.

I reached into the cupboard to grab a coffee cup. Omelets are not complete without coffee. A very special cup caught my eye. I don’t use it often because of a small chip on the rim. It was a wedding present — it’s white and says “I do” on the outside. It pairs with another cup, brown, that says “Me too.”

Today is our sixth anniversary, so it seemed like the most opportune time to use the chipped cup. I treated myself to chocolate mint coffee creamer, sat at the table, and held the warm cup in my hands. The steam rose slowly and provided a sense of calm.

As any mom knows, “sense of calm” never lasts for more than three seconds with small children around. Jonathan climbed into his booster seat, eagerly eyeing my plate. Kids are never full if they see you’re enjoying something that is clearly more delicious than what they just ate. He received a piece, which he never finished. James suddenly needed some omelet too (which he ate very eagerly).

“A lot has changed in six years!” I grinned at Marc.

At least they didn’t ask for my coffee.

I fixated on the cup as we finished breakfast. I don’t remember how the chip got there. I’m extremely clumsy and we moved across the county—those two factors practically destined the cup for injury. But the chip gives it a personality. It’s symbolic, can’t you see?

I love Marc and I love our marriage. Of course it’s not perfect—we have “chips”—but that’s not the way that I want to look at it anyway. Why focus on a chip when I’d be missing the fuller picture of what I have?

So I smiled as the imperfections of the morning unfolded. Loud kids breaking into quiet moments, me forgetting to bring sheet music to church (see it on the table next to my cup???), a not-quite-clean house, choosing to eat chocolate for a snack after lunch instead of something a little healthier (darn Halloween candy).

Marc probably didn’t even regard any of those moments as imperfections at all. This is one of the reasons I married him. His perspective. He knows what he’s got — a full cup, whether he’s looking at his family, his marriage, or any aspect of his life.

What’s great about marriage (and family and life in general) is that all of those little chips don’t decrease its value. On the contrary, I can confidently say that what some might consider “imperfections”—bad decisions, poorly chosen words, hurt feelings—have ultimately brought us closer together and closer to God.

So lift your cups—here’s to six full years of marriage and many more to come. I love you, Marc!

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Some of the best parenting advice I’ve heard is to prep your kids before you go somewhere. That way they’re reminded of your expectations ahead of time and will deal with the consequences upon failure to meet those expectations.

Example:

“Jimmy, we are going to the park. Do you want to have fun? Then here’s what needs to happen. We don’t spit on anyone or anything. Wood chips are for walking on, not for throwing. You can climb stairs and ladders; you may not climb up the side of the slide. We are kind to our friends so you will not hit or push other kids, even if someone hits or pushes you. I want you to have a happy attitude, even if I can’t push you on the swings. I do not want to hear whining about snacks. If you choose not to obey these rules you will proceed directly to the Park Bench; you will not pass Go; you will not collect $200. I hope you make good choices today. Do you understand?”

Jimmy is a hypothetical child with a good sense of humor about Monopoly references. He nods his head and goes off to play. At one point he reaches down and ponders propelling wood chips into the atmosphere. But then he looks back at Mom. She gives him The Look. He drops the chips and continues to have a pleasant experience for the rest of the outing.

My real child, James (whom I do not call Jimmy), is finally able to process and comprehend “prep talks” fairly well at age 3. Example: he has a difficult time not running. All the time. On the way to church last week, I kindly reminded him that we must walk at church; running and playing tag with his friends in the main room before his class started would be a poor choice (as it would inevitably lead to injuries or broken electronics). He remembered…for a little while. But as soon as he picked up his heels, I took one glance at him, picked him up and plopped him on a chair. He didn’t make a peep but solemnly agreed. He knew we had made a deal and patiently waited until the time-out was up.

It was a beautiful thing: he was not upset, and I was not upset. We moved on with our morning.

Admittedly it doesn’t always turn out that way—but the extra effort to have a little talk is definitely worth it more times than not.

Update 2/24/16

I changed the original language in this post so that it included more “do’s” and fewer “don’t’s” because sometimes we get stuck constantly telling our kids “no.” Looking for more positive alternatives? Read more about positive behavior words.

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I don’t know much about boxing, martial arts and other types of fighting other than what I’ve gleaned from movies (thanks to Mark Wahlberg, Hilary Swank, Russell Crowe, Sylvester Stallone, and the like). But I do know one thing:

Every good and fair fight has rules.

These days, rules in professional fighting might be as basic as no biting and staying inside of a ring (I’m pretty sure those are the only rules in UFC, right? I really don’t know).

Likewise, to have a fair fight in marriage, you have to play by the rules. Don’t have any established rules? You should.

A few years ago, Marc and I took a fantastic class together called Dynamic Marriage. One of the lessons we learned is that any marriage is generally going to be in one of three phases. The first phase is called intimacy – you’re emotionally close, in love, and ooshy gooshy happy. The second phase is conflict. Couples in conflict are not necessarily in a bad place. They have to be in conflict in order to work their way back towards intimacy. The third phase is the worst one. It’s called withdrawal. Couples in withdrawal have given up fighting. They may still technically be married, but they are emotionally distant – perhaps they are even looking outside the marriage to meet their desires to be intimate.In order to get back to intimacy, couples in the withdrawal phase have to go through the fighting phase.

Marc and I make it our goal to be in the intimacy phase. But to do that, we have to fight sometimes. To fight with that intimacy end goal in mind, we have to fight fair. And to fight fair, we need rules.

Thus I give you our marriage conflict rules of engagement (Please note: These rules work under the assumption that there is no abuse in the marriage – physical, sexual, emotional, or whatever. All bets are off when there’s abuse—that usually requires some serious outside help.):

No use of the “D” word. Ever.

“The man who hates and divorces his wife, ” says the Lord, the God of Israel, “does violence to the one he should protect,”says the Lord Almighty. So be on your guard, and do not be unfaithful.(Malachi 2:16, NIV)

Divorce is just not in our vocabulary because it is not an option. I might as well say, “I’m going to move to Argentina and start a banana stand!” The only reason one of us would use this word would be to be intentionally hurtful. Which brings me to the next rule…

No saying things that are intentionally hurtful.

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. (Ephesians 4:29, NIV)

The natural response to feeling hurt is to want to hurt back. Sometimes I have to very willfully bite my tongue so I don’t say something that is just mean and nasty—and drives us further apart. This rule takes some self-control (and requires apologizing if it’s broken). I should note that this rule doesn’t mean to avoid telling the truth so as to avoid hurting feelings. But as truth is told, it should be told in love. This brings me to our next rule…

No lying.

Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body. (Ephesians 4:25)

Early in our marriage, we fell into the common trap of telling half-truths to avoid conflict with each other. You know, like being very vague about how some money was spent so as not to upset your spouse. Or not confessing when you do something you know the other person wouldn’t like. Bad, bad idea—this is the shortcut route to withdrawal. Concealing truth is the same thing as lying. Not being completely honest destroys trust, which is vital for intimacy.

Take time-outs.

Do not deprive each other except perhaps by mutual consent and for a time, so that you may devote yourselves to prayer. (1 Corinthians 7:5)

The apostle Paul in the above passage was instructing married couples to meet each other’s physical needs, but then he put in this somewhat surprising pointer: get away from each other and pray (by mutual consent for a short time). Hmm…I wonder why? Probably so we can cool off when we’re hopping mad and need to get our heads on straight! Whenever either one of us is feeling like we’re going to say something we’ll regret, we have the right to a time-out to go cool off and collect ourselves. This is not the same as a cold shoulder. We have a mutual expectation that we will resume the conversation once either party has dealt with his or her anger in a productive way.

Get support.

Where there is strife, there is pride, but wisdom is found in those who take advice. (Proverbs 13:10)

Occasionally we come to an impasse during an argument. When that happens, we agree to seek counsel from another person or married couple we mutually respect. I can’t think of a single time after we sought such advice that it didn’t help.

And that’s it! These five rules are invaluable to helping us work through virtually any problem we encounter in marriage, large and small. Disclaimer: this is not a magic formula, particularly for deep and complicated issues. But it sure helps a lot.

I should note that another thing to remember is…in marriage you’re on the same team. So at the end of a fight, both parties win! I believe when we’ve worked through a conflict, we have mutual understanding and forgiveness.

So keep on fighting!

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I always get a little reminiscent at this time of year. Seven years ago, I was staying at a youth hostel in Philadelphia. I was with about 30 other colleges students and teenagers.

We weren’t just there to enjoy the city’s rich history, water ice and cheese steak (although we enjoyed all of that thoroughly). I had traveled all the way across the country to spend part of my summer break giving every ounce of love and energy I had to some kids on the streets of North Philly. Not exactly suburbia. This is what HOPE Youth Corps (HYC) was all about.

I arrived a little bit later than most of the other participants, maybe by about a day. I had to fly farther than most, and, since my school term ended in June and not May, I had finished taking my finals early before scrambling to the airport. I got to the hostel at night, just in time to join an opening devotional.

That’s when I first saw him. Marc Poirier. (How do you pronounce that anyway? It took me awhile to get it down). He was leading a song in front of a living room packed full of kids on a hot night – with more heart and passion than I’d ever seen. It’s not easy getting a group of people you just met to cooperatively sing a meaningful song, which they might or might not know. I didn’t get to talk to him that night, but he definitely intrigued me.

The next morning (although we’ve argued about this – he thinks it was evening), I had my first conversation with him. His epic first words after our introduction?

“What’s your story?”

What an odd question to answer! After asking for clarity on what on earth he meant by that (he said it could mean whatever I wanted it to mean), I think I muttered something trivial. Then I asked in return, “What’s YOUR story?”

“I came here to find my heart.” He then went on to pour his guts out about all he had been through and was learning and hoped to find through serving over the summer.

Okay, what kind of guy talks like this? Especially one you’ve known for five minutes? While I would never have admitted it at the time, I think I was already hooked.

Before I get any further, I’d like to add that I didn’t come to HYC looking for a soul-mate. Quite the opposite: I had participated in one of these things before, and it drove me nuts when everyone got their little crushes. I’d think to myself (perhaps a little self-righteously) that we were there to serve, not flirt!

But on the other hand…

Service is what brought us together.

In the following weeks, we fund-raised together, worked long hours together and saw each other at our best and worst. We took a weekend trip to New York and served at another HYC site in Washington, DC. While finding a husband was one of the last things I thought I wanted at the time, I left completely smitten and in love. Despite distance and many obstacles, we were married a little over a year later.

As I’ve been writing this, I’ve pondered why Marc and I click. Part of it’s the chemistry, the common interests, and the strange sense of humor we share. Of course our relationship is centered on our mutual love of God. But what really gets us going, no matter what’s else is happening, is when we’re able to serve together. Service takes many forms – even as simple as having people over for dinner. It’s just what we do.

Today whenever I tell “my story,” a significant part of it includes some time I spent in Philadelphia in June 2005. That’s when I found my heart.

To start, last Sunday was Mother’s Day. Leading up to Mother’s Day, there was that controversial Time Magazine thing with a mom breastfeeding a four-year-old. “Attachment parenting” was the hot issue (I’ve never heard that term). Before that, I watched with amusement on the Colbert Report (because that’s where I get most of my political news) a couple of weeks ago about the off-handed comment of a political analyst. She said a certain stay-at-home mom who “hasn’t worked a day in her life” wasn’t qualified to make an assessment about the economy. Then there was some equally judgmental backlash to that comment from the other side of the campaign…

Yesterday I read an article in our local paper about “Mommy Wars” in the U.S. – people raging in debate about how to raise our children. Another new term for me.

I just sighed as I pondered how to proceed with this post. Want to know what my opinion is about all of this hot debate?

It’s ridiculous.

Yet there’s reason for debate. Mothers have questions that demand answers. Here are just a few of the questions I’ve encountered and will continue to encounter as my kids mature:

Should I work full time, or stay home or try to work part time?

Should I formula feed or breastfeed? When/how should I wean?

How should I train my kids to sleep, if at all? Should I let them “cry it out?”

Is it okay to use physical punishment, like spanking? How often? How hard? What other forms of discipline are good to use?

How much TV is okay to watch?

What should I feed my kids?

How should I potty train?

Should I send them to preschool? When?

Should I send them to public school? Private school? Home school?

How many activities should my kids be involved in?

How/when should we talk to our kids about sex?

Should they have curfews when they’re teenagers? When?

Is “grounding” appropriate for discipline for teens?

Should they be allowed to date? At what age? What kind of rules do we need in our home regarding the opposite sex?

Will it ever be okay to kick them out?

I have a few opinions. We’ve figured out what currently works for us. But as soon as I start making absolute statements about the ONLY way to approach parenting, I start getting into some murky, self-righteous, judgmental territory. And that helps…no one.

My friend Stephanie had a very poignant post about this a few weeks ago called What is the Best Parenting Style? Probably a Loving Style. In other words, are you doing everything you can to love your kids? Then you’re probably on the right track. You’re the parent. You decide what’s best.

But of course, even when you’re doing the best you can, you’re going to really screw it up. I was reminded of this a couple of days ago when Jonathan came within inches of impaling his face on a garden hoe that I carelessly hadn’t noticed was sitting at the bottom of some steps with its prongs pointing up.

So then, what do we do? As a mom, I’m faced with decisions every day, every hour! I’ve been pondering this, and I’ve come up with the three most important things I have to have as a mom. In themselves, they aren’t exactly “answers” to all of those questions I just listed. But they point me in a good direction so I am equipped to make the best decisions for my kids.

1. A dynamic, growing relationship with God. I’ve got questions, and he’s got answers. If I’m not going to him with my issues, my fears, my hopes, my whatever about being a mom, I’m completely lost. I would probably be driving myself crazy consulting the Mommy Wars debates.

“All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the servant of Godmay be thoroughly equipped for every good work.” 2 Timothy 3:16-17 (NIV)

2. Unity in my marriage. Marc and I are a team – if we’re not working together on the biggest venture of our lives, we’re in trouble. We need constant communication. It would be too long to insert a quote here, but basically every marriage that is upheld in the Bible was a great partnership that often had to work through difficult issues (Abraham/Sarah, Boaz/Ruth, Joseph/Mary, Aquila/Priscilla, to name a few).

Obviously, this doesn’t apply to everyone, as there are many single moms and dads out there. All I have to say about them is – you’re my heroes. I couldn’t do this alone.

3. A strong support community. We have many people in our lives – family and friends – whose parenting styles we imitate and who offer feedback about all of those tough questions. Without them, I wouldn’t even know where to start.

“Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.” Romans 12:10 (NIV)

I don’t have all the “right” answers to those tough questions. I’m going to continue making a lot of mistakes. But with these three things, I feel confident that at least I’m heading in the right direction.

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One of the worst moments as a mother is when you hear a crash and a blood-curdling scream in the other room. Then when you go to address the cause of your heart attack, you find a child with a mouth full of blood.

My sixteen-month-old has a tendency to catch the full weight of his body on his upper lip when he falls.

If you can’t see it, that’s a swollen lip right there. Again.

I don’t remember much of my own experience, but it’s pretty rough being a toddler. As a mom, I love/hate going to the playground. The boys have so much fun, but inevitably we leave with scrapes, blood and bruises. Wood chips and dirt are stuck in hair, on clothes and in shoes.

With my second boy now exercising his full freedom in mobility, one of the lessons I’ve been forced to learn is that sometimes you just have to let them fall.

When my oldest son James was the only child, I was able to hover over him at the playground. I thought he needed me there. That kid has way too much reckless abandon. I’m pretty sure he would walk off the edge of a cliff because it looked like fun.

Then Jonathan was born and I couldn’t hover over James all the time anymore. So he pulled some crazy stunts. In our family portraits we had to have his forehead Photo Shopped because it had a huge scrape on it. Another time we went to the ER because he tried to climb our dresser and pulled the whole thing over.

Miraculously, he survived—even more miraculously, without any stitches, concussions or broken bones (knock on wood).

Ah but it’s summer time again and now we have James’ little brother attempting his luck at climbing just about everything. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but whenever we go to the doctor for a checkup, he has some nasty bruise or cut on his head. I’m a little surprised I’ve never been investigated.

It’s impossible to protect both of my kids unless they’re asleep or strapped into the double stroller (James likes this option less and less these days). And so what happens? They fall down and hurt themselves.

But something special happened the other day. They were both running around like madmen on the equipment at one of our favorite parks.And I wasn’t worried about them! I just sat back and watched. They had discovered their limits. James had mastered every part of the structure that he could reach. And Jonathan had most of it down; he just stayed away from the edges that were too high for him to climb or slide down.

Who taught them how to traverse the playground safely? Not me! If they took my advice they would stay in the grass. All of those bruises and scrapes—which I felt so bad about—have taught them to know their limits. At the same time they’re continually stretching those limits. It amazes me how many times both of them have gone back to the same activity that caused an injury, as if the injury never happened. It drives me crazy when I watch, but somehow they manage to figure out how to repeat the activity but not the injury.

I know this is just the beginning for me as a parent. How many times throughout their lives will they fall—and I’ll just have to watch and let it happen. No helping. No hovering. They will get hurt. My heart will ache for them and I will soothe them, but I cannot teach them how to climb or prevent all of the falls. Climbing, like many of life’s lessons, cannot really be taught. They’ll just have to figure it out.

But each fall will help them get closer to the top.

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I'm Gina, a happily married mom of three and stress management coach. I help exhausted, overwhelmed moms find peace and purpose in the everyday. Be sure to sign up for tons of free resources that will help you stop just surviving and start thriving! Read More…